


Your Protector

by russantroll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russantroll/pseuds/russantroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Jess. Their first real fight - and it's about him meeting her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Protector

Their first real fight. It's about him meeting her family.

Sam sits on the edge of the bed – their bed, goddamn it, in their house – and tries to pick apart his words. Was there even a right way to go about this?

Probably not.

She wants him to meet them. And part of him; a pretty big part of him, wants that too.

But.

But he doesn't want to see their ordinariness, their ease with each other, and feel something cold and hard in the pit of his stomach.

He's scared that if this happens, he will begin to envy her. And he doesn't want that shadow, that bitterness, hanging over their relationship. Jess is the one bright spot in his existence that he wants, irrationally, to leave untarnished by anything. 

(“Why won't you come back with me this weekend? Why don't you want to meet them?” And then, jokingly, “Do you think I'm gonna be ashamed of you?”

“Maybe,” he'd responded, self-indulgently, because that was the way he felt, and Jess had shaken her head; pushed her hands through her hair in exasperation).

He flops back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The house is so quiet.

(“Then what? Are you just – not interested in meeting my family?”

“Jess, come on. You know that's not it.”

“Well, what is it, then? What aren't you telling me?”)

And, stubbornly, he hadn't told her. Because he couldn't. How could he? Even without trying to get her to believe the unbelievable stuff, even omitting that, his feelings are too big and grey and heavy for words.

(“That's what people are supposed to do, when they care about each other. They're supposed to be honest with each other.”)

And he can't. Quite possibly he never can. Not entirely.

God. He loves her. He loves her so fiercely that he refuses, point-blank, to hold her in the same part of his mind as all that stuff; all that family stuff, big and grey and heavy. A stubborn stain.

But – what about her? What about what she wants? He'll have to meet them eventually. The longer he leaves it; the more times he makes up excuses, the harder it'll be. Even this; even their argument this afternoon, is a product of his upbringing.

No matter what he does, he realises, he can't shield her from that.

He pulls out his phone to call her.


End file.
